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What does it matter if society spurns me?

Following a disastrous incident at a house party, Lady Isobel Jervis is exiled to the country to avoid further scandal. At the imposing Wimpole Hall, she meets architect Giles Harker. He is as eye-catching as the elegant house, but shockingly arrogant-and infuriatingly dismissive.

Despite himself, Giles is strangely drawn to the haughty Isobel, and stuns her with a secret kiss in the gardens. As the illegitimate son of an infamous scarlet woman, he knows love can be dangerous. Their growing attraction could come at the cost of both their reputations.

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Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.

This author also writes under the name Francesca Shaw.

I have had my nose buried in a history book - fact or fiction - for as long as I can remember, but even more important to me are the places and the objects that conjure up the past. My first attempt at historical fiction at the age of eight was three pages of improbable medieval drama set in the local castle.

With a degree in geography and archaeology I love to try and 'read' the landscape and the buildings in it for clues about the past. Virtually any place can trigger ideas for plots, but I am particularly inspired by Venice, Burgundy, Mediterranean islands and the Hertfordshire and Norfolk countryside.

I live in England in a village in Bedfordshire with my long-suffering husband. He is not sure whether to be flattered or alarmed to be told he is the inspiration for all my romantic heroes! Whenever possible we escape to our cottage on the North Norfolk coast where Percy, the bossy pheasant, allows us to share the garden.

My resolution every time I start on a new plot is to plan it carefully, make copious notes first and write lots of drafts in a disciplined and orderly manner. What inevitably happens is that the story starts to write itself in my head until it gets completely out of control - meanwhile my study floor becomes a sea of open books, prints and maps and I am found sitting in the car at traffic lights, muttering dialogue. At that point I have to start writing, knowing full well that the hero and heroine are going to take over and sabotage all my attempts at discipline. It is, after all, their story.